“Hold on, Pru. I think it might be better if we lift from under his arms.”
Alan pulled his hand back. “I believe I can rise on my own, thank you.” No need to bring them both down if his feet landed on the slippery spot again. Placing one hand to his side and bringing a leg up under him, he began to rise. But instead of stepping back, Grace placed a hand under his unused arm. He smiled.
By nature, she could not stand by without helping. He’d seen it time and again over this last year. Whether it was a neighbor who needed a friend, a sibling who could use a listening ear, or even a pup who’d lost its mother, she’d stepped in to save them. The last thought sobered him as he reached his feet. She’d fed and nursed that poor baby for weeks, but in the end, it had grown sick and died. He still remembered her tears. Oh, how he wished he could have drawn her into his arms and comforted her then, but it was not his place.
“Trying your hand at making snow fairies?” Hamdon teased as he joined them. “There are easier ways, you know.”
Alan’s lips quirked up against his better judgment. It was best not to encourage his brother-in-law in his teasing, especially not with a friend around. He and Lenning were a force to be reckoned with when it came to wit.
“I’m not sure which ruined it more, his chaotic approach or his dismount from the snow,” Mr. Lenning added. “Perhaps he needs better instruction on proper snow fairy making.”
“Stop it, you two,” Grace said with a giggle. “Neither of us meant to land in the snow. Don’t come any closer or you will hit the patch of ice we slipped on.”
The two men grinned and went back to helping their respective partners cut greenery.
Grace swiped snow from the back of his coat. “You’ll have to forgive my brother. Leave it to him to find some sort of drollery in our misfortune.”
Alan’s back ached from its personal acquaintance with the ground, but with each brush of Grace’s hands the tension magically fled, freezing him in place as he submitted to her ministrations. He didn’t want to shift for fear she’d realize the intimacy of such a gesture.
As she moved to the front, their eyes caught. She stopped, her cheeks growing rosier than the cold had already made them.
Alan wanted to protest when she stepped back and cleared her throat. However, while he had enjoyed her assistance, he really needed to remember not to encourage such closeness. She was leaving in a few weeks to find her happily ever after; it was best not to complicate things.
Then she shifted closer. Reaching up, she gently removed something from his hair. His heart picked up speed with her closeness, but his mind went completely blank. The smell of vanilla floated in the air between them as her hand came down.
Pinched between her fingers, she held a small white berry. Not just any berry, though. It was mistletoe.
Chapter 5
Grace examined the small orb gently pinched between her two fingers. It had split and the gooey substance from inside stuck to her glove. Strange that a plant could produce fruit during the cold of winter, but here was proof.
She glanced up and caught Lord Gladsby staring at her, his eyebrows lowered and his lips compressed. Was he upset or just concentrating? His focus was more on the berry than on her, so perhaps the latter.
His gaze shifted to the others as they cut branches, and she wondered what he was thinking. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I suppose my clumsiness has ruined a kiss for some unlucky chap.”
Grace laughed at the unexpected supposition. “Perhaps, or maybe someone has already put this berry to good use.”
His bright blue eyes twinkled with mirth. “I like your way of viewing it. That way, I’m absolved of guilt for destroying someone’s happy Christmas.”
The smirk he cast her sent giddy energy all the way to her fingertips. Worried she might blush again, she glanced around to see where the berry might have originated from, but the area was far too shaded. Odd that this little berry had made its way into this part of the grove.
“Probably carried here by a bird,” Lord Gladsby said, scanning the trees as she did.
“It must be, for it’s too dark for mistletoe to thrive here. Maybe it fell on you from one of the trees near the gardener’s shed.”
“I certainly hope not. Mr. Lovell will be quite distressed if he finds it growing in his garden. Says it is similar to a leech because it sucks out the blood of the tree.”
The imagery made Grace shiver. She’d seen leeches used once when her father was ill. Disgusting little black creatures that resembled worms. It was odd to think of mistletoe serving the same purpose on trees.
“Nevertheless,” she said, “I don’t believe there are any trees here that get the right amount of sun for them to grow, so it must be from somewhere else you visited today.”
“Well then, we must root it out if it has invaded the Engalworth gardens. When we return we’ll go in search of the source.”
He procured a small hatchet from the hand sled, and Grace wondered—and perhaps hoped more than she ought—that hiswemight not include everyone in the group.
The conversation between them turned to Christmases past as they helped the others. Parlor games were again brought up, Bradley declaring there was nothing quite as entertaining as Hot Cockles.
“We’re a bit old for that one,” Lord Gladsby said.
